High King Peter the Magnificent
by Crusader777
Summary: What is there in the making for one who is called 'High King' and 'the Magnificent' A story of how Peter grew into his position and title with an eventual Peter/OC. Rated T just for safety. BOOKVERSE
1. Sir Peter Wolfsbane

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the few OCs which are obvious to spot, but even so, what they are and the world they live in as well as everything else belongs to C.S. Lewis.**

**Summary: What is there in the making for one who is called 'High King' and 'the Magnificent?' A story of how Peter grew into his position and title with an eventual Peter/OC.**

**AN: Hey there, everyone! This is my first attempt at a fanfiction, though I've browsed around since early 2004 - yes, seven years later, I decided that now might be a good time to get my feet wet and attempt my own fanfiction.**

**Again, this is a bookverse-based fic so those that have read them might recognize a few of the lines from there. The only other influence that I can say would not be the 2005 Narnia movies, oh no. The only movie influences are the ones that I grew up with. That is the BBC production of the Chronicles of Narnia.**

**The story starts out just after the Beavers have brought Peter, Susan and Lucy to the Stone Table to meet with Aslan.**

**And now! Onto the story!**

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><p>Chapter One: Sir Peter Wolfsbane<p>

"Come, Son of Adam and I will show you far off sight of the castle where you will be made King." Aslan had spoken to him, breaking him from his revere. He nodded to the Great Lion and the two of them made their way to the eastern edge of the hill which overlooked much of the rest of the wood. From a distance one could make out the Great Sea and just next to it, a majestic castle rested on the cliffs of a peninsula that jutted out into the ocean.

"There, oh man is Cair Paravel of the four thrones in one of which you must sit as King."

Peter began to feel a lump form in his throat and his limbs quivered slightly. A thirteen year old boy a King? He let out a slow breath as a wave of perspiration formed on his brow. He already had known that it was something according to Narnian legend that he and his siblings were supposed to be destined for. Before, he'd merely brushed the notion off, but in hearing it from Aslan Himself, it was as though he now stared the prospect dead in the eyes.

Aslan continued, His voice a low rumble. "I show it to you, because you are the first born and will be High King over all the rest."

Peter turned to at last say something to Aslan. His confidence in himself had all but diminished. He was a thirteen year old kid and now was not only expected just be _a_ _King_ of Narnia, but _the High King_ of Narnia. At that moment though, a sound echoed across the hilltop, like a bugle only richer.

"It is your sister's horn." Aslan purred, if it is not disrespectful to say that a Lion can purr.

Peter blinked and his previous thoughts and emotions vanished and were replaced by an expedient sense of urgency. He and Aslan raced back towards the Stone Table and found the whole encampment in disarray. The serving girls amongst the Naiads and Dryads scattered everywhere while Fauns and Centaurs and those Naiads and Dryads that could fight scrambled for their weapons and the Talking Beasts hissed, growled and roared. Lucy came running over to Peter as fast as her short legs would carry her, her eyes wide in terror as she pointed, her mouth open in an unvoiced scream. Peter turned toward where she pointed just in time to see Susan scramble up a tree followed by the most enormous wolf Peter had ever laid eyes on. Chill bumps ran up and down his skin as he looked on.

Oh why hadn't Susan climbed higher to the second branch? Her foot dangled off the branch she now clung to and was dangerously close to the wolf's snapping jaws. Then he saw it in her paling face. She was about to faint and if she fainted…

Peter did not feel particularly brave. In fact, he felt more like he was going to be sick, but Susan couldn't hold on forever. He took a breath and rush off towards the beast with his sword drawn. He didn't even notice that none of the Narnian warriors had followed him at the bidding of Aslan's voice "Back! Let the Prince win his spurs!"

He ran forward and opened his mouth to make a challenging war cry, but the lump in his throat only allowed him to make a muffled yelp. The wolf had either heard him or spotted him as it turned and leapt out of the way of Peter's sword stroke and Peter felt sure he would have been finished if the thing had not let out a gruesome howl with its fur spiking out on its back and tail.

Slowly, the wolf began padding over to the Peter's left and only then did it register in Peter's mind that he ought to make use of his shield. He raised it just in time as the wolf lunged at him. His sword dangled all but useless in his right hand as his left heaved up his shield to block. The wolf bounced off his shield, in turn putting Peter off balance as it righted itself and let out another howl.

Regaining his footing, Peter pursed his lips and clenched his jaw, attempting to swallow the lump in his throat. The wolf lunged again but this time, Peter was ready. He raised his shield and swung his sword. The blow missed as the wolf rebounded off the shield and howled again.

Peter reminded himself to breathe as he reassumed his stance. His right hand on tightened to a death grip on his sword as he held his shield close to him. The wolf seemed to have learned the error of going for his shield side and instead made its way off to the right. Peter gritted his teeth together as something overcame him, pushing away his fear. It had started like an ember in a fire, small at first, but now it burst forth into a roaring flame that consumed him. Though he kept his eyes straight into the wolf's, out of his peripheral vision, he saw the subtle misstep in the wolf's otherwise flawless prow. It hopped off to the left, then used its back legs to push itself back to the right as it came at Peter once again, snarling like a hungry demon. Peter opened his mouth as his face twisted and let out a bellowing war cry now unrestrained by the lump in his throat that was no longer there and charged forward.

As the wolf leapt at him again, instead of merely blocking with his shield, he punched out with it, attempting to knock it back, but instead ended up losing his balance and toppling over backwards. He squeezed his eyes shut as sweat stung into them and he thrust out blindly with his sword.

He hit the ground with a thud, but it wasn't enough to jar his head as he rolled right and pushed himself up. As he stood, he stared open mouthed as the wolf, which had apparently twisted in its jump to land facing him.

Then it stumbled, let out a whine and collapsed.

Peter breathed hard and fast and for a moment he stared at the felled wolf, then at his sword – over half the blade was now stained in blood. The only sound he heard as the _thud-thud-thud_ of his pulse beating in his ears and he blinked, realizing what he'd done and let out a breath, an uneasy smile reaching his lips as he looked around. Then entire Narnian encampment had erupted in cheers. Lucy rushed over to hug her brother as Susan climbed down from her tree and embraced him as well.

The cheers hushed at once as a second wolf darted out from the woods surrounding the hilltop.

"After him!" Aslan bellowed. "He will go to his mistress, the White Witch! Now is the chance to rescue the second Son of Adam! GO!" At Aslan's words, several Centaurs and as well as Griffons and a Pegasus sped off in pursuit.

Mr. Beaver hurried over to Peter with a proud grin on his face and quickly led him over to Aslan. Peter could feel the eyes of the entire encampment upon him. As he stood before Aslan, the same uneasy smile played across his lips.

"Son of Adam," Aslan said in a gentle, but at the same time, reproachful tone. "You have forgotten to clean your sword."

Peter blinked and looked down at the blade of his sword which was still red from the wolf's blood. He gave an embarrassed blush and bent down to wipe his sword clean on the grass.

"Come, kneel." Aslan said, this time in a gentle and solemn way.

There was an audible gasp and murmur throughout the encampment as Peter knelt with his sword in front of him and his shield at his side. Peter lowered his head respectfully before the Great Lion and a hushed somberness fell over the encampment as Aslan placed His nuzzle over Peter's left shoulder, then lifted it again and place it over his right. Peter could smell the Lion's mane and breath as Aslan moved over his head and a peace and calm felt over him, yet at the same time, something stirred in him, almost like a sense of longing, but something so enrapturing that Peter could only later give it the name "joy."

He looked up to Aslan questioningly before Aslan said again. "Rise up – Sir Peter Wolfsbane."

Peter's jaw fell and he nearly forgot to stand up when Aslan bid him to do so. Had he just been knighted? Him, Peter, a boy of thirteen had been made a Knight? It couldn't be! Such a thing only happened in the children's stories that his mother had read to him when he was only a boy – and yet Aslan had just pronounced him as Sir Peter Wolfsbane.

"And whatever happens…" Aslan continued and Peter could almost see a subtle grin on the Lion's face. "…Never forget to wipe your sword."

At that, Peter flushed and grinned back at Aslan, letting out a small laugh.

The Narnian encampment again broke out into cheers. Peter was probably the first Knight of Narnia in over a hundred years, how could they not be joyous? Susan, Lucy and the two Beavers came to Peter and embraced him in celebration, beaming smiles on their faces as bright as the radiant sun as a few tears of pride spilt over their eyelids onto their cheeks.

"Well done.. _Sir _Peter." Said Mr. Beaver, his proud smile still plastered onto his face. "That does have quite the nice ring to it."

"If you say so, Mr. Beaver." Peter laughed, though was he still in a bit too much of a shock to really say much.

"Faiana." Aslan called and a Naiad approached and gave a low curtsey to the Lion. "Tend to the Son of Adam and ensure that he is given well rest, for today has been a trying day for him."

The Naiad smiled and gave another curtsey. "Yes, Sire. I shall." The Naiad, Faiana turned and smiled pleasantly to Peter. "Your Highness, if you will come with me, I shall see that you're fed and that all provisions have been made for you."

Peter stared at the Naiad and his mouth fell open slightly.

Her pale skin shone like sunlight would in a gentle clear water's surface and her hair was a dark, almost black color, but had a slight hue of blue to it that flowed in waves and curls down to her waist that looked only half-dried.

The dress she wore was a light aquatic of green-blue that was sleeveless and fell to the middle of her shins, long enough for decency, but short enough for her to run in if she so wished. A belt with a slightly darker color was strapped about her waist that held a pearl pommeled dagger in its sheath. Around her neck hung a necklace with finely craved pearls, alabasters, quartz, amethysts, turquoise, sapphires and many other precious stones adorned to it.

But it was her eyes were the most distinguishable feature about her. So dark, but not black all the way through. The edge of her irises were a deep hue of royal blue that darkened the closer it got to her pupils. They shone with kindness and a certain degree of child-like innocence, yet held wisdom beyond a thousand years.

"Your Highness?" She asked and Peter shook himself and blushed considerably. _Dolt! It's very rude to stare!_ He thought to himself. Then nodded to the Naiad and followed her as she led him to one of the many colorful pavilions and ducked inside behind the flap.

Inside the pavilion was a tub made of brass and a finely sheeted bed as well as a table laid out in fine decoration. Above him was an unlit chandelier that he knew would light the pavilion well during the night.

As he looked around, he noticed Faiana making small motions and gestures with her hands. Out of nowhere, water materialized and flowed into the tub, filling it nearly to the brim.

Peter blinked and stared. "…How?"

Faiana giggled. "I am a Naiad, your Highness. A daughter of the River God."

_A River Nymph_. Peter thought to himself with a nod and a smile.

She smiled back and opened a small chest that lay next to the tub and removed a towel and soap, laying them on the bed. She turned to Peter and smiled again. He found himself blushing at her.

"I would imagine that after your ordeal you would desire a bath and some rest. The water should be to your liking, I hope." She glanced over at the tub and then back to Peter. "Would you desire any food to be brought to you, Highness?"

Peter laughed. He did not feel quite right being addressed as 'Highness.' It was already odd enough being addressed as 'Son of Adam.' Then again, he knew that customs would deem it so. "I am not a King yet. Please, just call me Peter."

Faiana grinned and let out a gentle laugh. To Peter, it sounded sweeter than the running waters of a rippling brook. "It would not do well a servant to address Narnia's soon-to-be High King by his common name, Highness."

Peter closed his eyes and bit his lip as he blushed harder. "Please, all the attention is enough. The idea of having… servants it not something I do not find taste in."

She tilted her head in a questioning way. "Your Highness merely needs to get used to it. I imagine it is a new thing for your Highness to have servants and attendants if the rumors of your Highnesses being from a different world is true."

Peter smiled at her elegant way of speaking. It wasn't exactly a new thing for Peter to be attended by servants. After all, he had lived at Professor Kirke's house for a while before coming to Narnia and Ivy, Betty and Margaret had been there to cook meals and provide upkeep for the house. But the three of them, along with Mrs. Macready had been more like housekeepers than servants.

"I'd rather have friends than servants." Said Peter, then to emphasis his point, he added: "Faiana."

At this she let out a truly genuine laugh and shook her head in mirth. "You have conquered me, then _Peter_." She said his name with emphasis. "But I shall only address you by your common name when no others are present." Her laughter settled into a few subsided giggles. "But would you have some food brought to you? I'd also imagine a change of clothes would be in order?"

Peter thought for a moment, then nodded. He'd not eaten since early that morning when Father Christmas had given them their presents and his clothes were sweat-drenched and stained with grass and dirt. "If you please?"

Faiana stared at him incredulously and laughed again. "No, if _you_ please, Peter. Your word is law. I shall have the Dryads alter a few clothes to fit you and send one of my brother's to deliver them to you."

"Thank you, Faiana."

She smiled again. "Of course." She dropped into a low curtsey and made her exit.

Peter smiled and shook his head as she left then set his shield and sword down and stripped himself of his clothes and stepped into the tub, reaching for the soap that Faiana had left for him. The water was just cool of lukewarm, but to Peter who had worked up a sweat and was still quite weary from traveling and sleeping on the ground the night before, it was a paradise. As he washed the sweat and grime off himself, he allowed his thoughts to drift. This was really the first time he'd truly been able to relax since coming to Narnia. Granted, the dinner he'd had at the Beaver's dam the day before had been a pleasant one, but the anxiety he'd felt over finding a way to somehow rescue Mr. Tumnus had eat away at his mind. His thoughts first settled on Faiana. She was the most beautiful woman he'd laid eyes upon and in his mind was the embodiment of the maidens of 'unearthly beauty' that was so often described in the stories his mother had read to him and his siblings when they were younger.

Peter had never experienced love, such a thing was either unheard of or considered childish for boys his age. He had had of course a few crushes before and he was certain that in the brief five minutes that he'd spent with Faiana, he'd developed one for her as well. That had been a sore spot between him and Edmund, his crushes, in those first few years. Edmund had, of course jeered and teased him endlessly about it (and it those days, it was considered extremely rude, immature and childish to tease someone about such things). He was considered a few years too young to be 'dating' girls. None of the ones he had had crushes on were of course obviously not from his school since he attended an all-boys school. His mother would have none of that riff-raff of sending her children to one of those experimental co-educational boy and girl schools like Peter's Aunt Alberta had done with his cousin Eustace, and Peter felt it showed, as Eustace was turning out to be as bad as Edmund.

Edmund…

Peter sighed, still feeling very guilty about him being angry with his brother. Though Mr. Beaver had told him that Edmund had been spelled by the White Witch when he'd eaten her food, he still felt that his admonishing Edmund had sealed away any chance of him not siding with the Witch. But he reminded himself that Aslan had sent out a party to rescue Edmund and Peter felt that he could put good faith in those brave men and especially Aslan. The Great Lion had been everything that the Beavers had described Him as and more. So much more.

As he finished bathing himself, someone addressed him just outside the tent. "Your Highness?" It belonged to a man.

"Come in." Said Peter, figuring it was one of Faiana's brothers delivering him his change of clothes.

Sure enough, a man of features similar to Faiana entered the pavilion and set down a pair of clothes by his bedside. There was some differences between this Naiad and his sister. For one, his hair was a stark white instead of dark and his eyes had the same difference. He wore a pair of trousers of a dark green color, like that of seaweed and an open vest that was the same.

"Your Highness." The Naiad addressed him with a bow and Peter groaned inwardly. "My sister had the Dryads alter these clothes for you. Shall I have your old ones set to wash?"

Peter nodded. "Yes, please." He said as he reached for the towel and stood to dry himself.

The Naiad bowed again and gathered Peter's clothes and made his exit.

Peter stepped out of the tub and dried himself and set about clothing himself in the Narnian garb that was laid out for him. They truly were magnificent, more like works of art as opposed to garments that were meant to be worn. Most were crimson as their color base with elegant embroideries patterns of

gold threaded intricately into them. Next to them, he noticed a pair of black leather boots with silver buckles attached to them… as well as a set of golden spurs attached to the heel.

_Let the Prince win his spurs!_

What had Aslan meant by that? Then he remembered how the Knights of old on Earth wore spurs upon their boots to distinguish themselves.

He chose some of the relatively simple garments to wear. A pair of off white trousers that had a row of buttons and a draw-string instead of a single button and zipper; and a crimson and gold pullover tunic. There was a white belt laid out as well, a baldric he found it to be, with the perfect fit for the scabbard of his sword to slide into. He dressed himself and donned the baldric around his waist and slipped his sheathed sword into the attachment, then laid on the bed to slip his socks and boots on.

When he stood up again, he immediately noticed the difference between his old clothes from England and those of Narnia. While his English clothes were stiff and coarse and often times itchy, his Narnian clothes were soft and flowing and rested comfortable on his form. His boots were heavier than his old shoes, especially because of the spurs on the back, but Peter found that he liked them.

In a bit of childish play, Peter drew his sword and held it aloft above his head and closed his eyes. It was a dream come true for boys like him who grew up on stories of honorable, chivalric Knights and noble Kings of valor… and now he felt like he was truly growing into the part. He grinned and gave his sword a twirl in his hand – only to have it cut a line on the elegant comforter of the bed. He gasped and cringed as he looked at it and then remembered the words of Father Christmas.

_They are tools, not toys…_

Peter sighed and bit his lip. While he hoped no one would be upset by there being a tear in the bed, he knew he ought to tell someone. He sheathed his sword and turned toward the flap of the pavilion as he heard the sounds of footsteps approaching.

"Your Highness?" It was Faiana.

"Come in." Peter answered her.

"You are decent, Highness?"

Peter stammered and blushed hard. What an awkward situation it would be if…

"I-I am. Come in, Faiana."

With that, the Naiad entered, carrying a golden tray with several dishes atop it. "Trickle tart?" She asked with a smile.

Peter grinned. "Yes, please."

Faiana nodded and set two dishes of trickle tart for him on the table, then turned and smiled brightly at him. "Now you look everything like we Narnians imagined you would be, Peter."

Peter felt as if he was going to melt on the spot. Never before had a woman made him feel such a way and he'd known her for only about half an hour. His face flushed scarlet and he gave a nervous laugh. "Well, I'm starting to feel that way now. I guess the clothes helped with that a little."

Faiana dropped her smile and nodded to him. Her face took on a tone of sincerity as she held the tray at her waist. "You ought to, Peter. It is no small feat vanquishing the foe that you did."

Peter blinked and frowned. "It was just a wolf."

Faiana shook her head. "That was no mere wolf that you slew. Several of the Dryads and Fauns confirmed that it was Fenris Ulf – Maugrim, the Captain of the Witch's Secret Police."

Peter blinked again and his eyes went wide. Maugrim… Well, at least he had avenged Mr. Tumnus, or rather, had brought his captor to justice.

"You may not think it, Peter, but you're a far greater person than you know. We all saw it when you slew Maugrim. And the fact that you and your sisters were able to make it into Narnia and get to the Stone Table all the way from the Beaver's dam _while_ being pursued by the White Witch is not a feat to laugh at."

Peter gave a small sigh. "We'd have never made it had it not been for the Beavers… and Edmund fell in with the White Witch."

Faiana bowed her head and closed her eyes. "_Sir_ Peter." She emphasized his title. "Your humility has its place, but to everything there is its own season and a time for every purpose under Aslan's Country, but today is a day for you and everyone to celebrate. The Captain of the Witch's Secret Police, one of Narnia's most feared enemies, is slain by your hand and though your brother is a prisoner of the Witch, Aslan has sent His soldiers to rescue him." She raised her head up and opened her eyes. "Now come, it would not do to have your food sit here to spoil. Your sisters and everyone await you, as well."

Peter nodded and then smiled. "Thank you, Faiana."

The Naiad nodded to him, then dropped into another low curtsey and hastily left the pavilion.

Peter sat down to the table that had been prepared for him. Trickle tart was normally a dessert for the end of a meal, but it was a real treat to have it for an afternoon snack. He bit into the crust and into the deliciously sweet filling. Two of the tarts would do, as he did not want to spoil himself for the feast tonight that Aslan had ordered to be prepared earlier. Doubts still nagged the back of his mind, though. Even though the issue had been settled about whether or not anything could be done about what was past, he still thought that it wasn't right in him having these doubts. How could he be expected to be a good Knight – a good King if all these doubts plagued his mind? It was something very new to him. Normally and in normally he meant back in England, he had an unwavering sense of confidence brought on by being the oldest of his siblings, the leader.

He wiped his mouth and sighed. What was the matter with him? He recalled his earlier talk with Faiana and the thing that he remembered her saying again and again was for him to trust in Aslan. She made it sound so easy. Yet, he felt an apprehension in his heart. Perhaps… maybe if he spoke to Aslan Himself on the matter? Peter settled to do that. After all, was Aslan not the True King of Narnia?

Peter decided that would be the best. For what greater guide, teacher, mentor, and friend could there be for Narnia's future High King than Narnia's True King Himself?

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><p><strong>AN: Well, there we have it. First chapter up. Reviews and constructive criticism would be most appreciated. I worry a bit that, even though the length of this chapter chronologically takes only about an hour, that I am moving a bit too fast in most areas while attempting to slow the story down by going far too slow at some places.<strong>

**Oh well, the reviews and criticism will tell! I've already begun work on later chapters, but I shall wait until the reviews come in before posting more.**

**Until then, may the Lion guide your paths.**


	2. To Think as a King Would

**Disclaimer: I own nothing other than Faiana. All else belongs to C.S. Lewis.**

**Summary: **What is there in the making for one who is called 'High King' and 'the Magnificent?' A story of how Peter grew into his position and title with an eventual Peter/OC.****

****AN: Hey there everyone! I suppose one review after one day on my very first fic is all I ought to expect. No worries though! My thanks go out to Calyn and I am gladdened that I am not the only one who appreciates the true canon over special effects and 'epicness.'****

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><p>Chapter Two: To Think as a King Would<p>

Peter awoke the next morning at the sound of the flap of the pavilion rustling. He yawned and stretched and looked and saw Faiana standing with a golden tray in her hands very similar to the one she had had just the day before. "Good morning!" She said with a bright smile. "I've brought you some milk!"

Peter returned her smile and nodded. "Thank you, Faiana." Then turned to wake Susan and Lucy who had slept in the pavilion with him. They both yawned and stretched and thanked Faiana for the milk in turn.

As they sat in silence for a moment, Peter's thoughts drifted to the day before. Of how they'd met Father Christmas after spending the night in the cave the Beavers had brought them to in their flight from the dam, and of receiving their presents from Father Christmas. _The time to use them may be near at hand. Bare them well._ That was what Father Christmas had told Peter as he'd given him his sword and shield. Peter could have never guessed that the "near at hand" Father Christmas spoke of would have been that afternoon when he'd slain Maugrim and been knighted by Aslan Himself as Sir Peter Wolfsbane.

After the trickle tarts that Faiana had brought to him after he'd freshened up, he had spent some time talking to Aslan about his responsibilities that would be coming as Narnia's High King. Aslan had told Peter that when the time of trials and tests had come that he would know what to do, even if he was scared to do them, and that he had proven that by defending Susan and the rest of the encampment from Maugrim. Aslan had also told him that if He did not feel that Peter were the right Son of Adam to take the position of Narnia's High King, He would not have brought Peter to Narnia.

At this, Peter was instantly filled with wonder, for it had seemed to him that he and his brother and sisters had stumbled into Narnia by sheer luck.

_I have never met a creature by the name of Luck before, Son of Adam._ Was Aslan's reply as he reassured Peter that He had brought him and his brother and sisters to fulfill a purpose. Peter, though still filled with wonder at the Great Lion's words, decided not to press the issue further for he was of the age in which children begin to think for themselves instead of having all things told to them. Could his role in being brought to Narnia be something of far grander design than just to be its High King? That position alone sounded grand in of itself, but after his talk with Aslan, he was of the mind now that it could not have been by luck, for Aslan Himself had said he had been brought here and not by luck, but he had not been brought to Narnia by luck… It astounded and amazed Peter. He had never been too deeply practical – he left that up to Susan, but he still enjoyed deep contemplation and thought. But this – this was beginning to be something far more amazing than he'd first thought.

After the feast, Peter had retired early in the evening. Though he had desired to see the things that Lucy had told him about when she had told them everything Mr. Tumnus had told her about the old Narnia before the White Witch; about the Fauns and the Naiads and Dryads all coming out to dance and to see the forest give itself up to 'jollification,' as Mr. Tumnus had put it, Peter was weary from the fight earlier in the day and when he'd come in the pavilion to bathe and seen the bed which had been prepared for him, he desired nothing more than to slip under the comforter and sheets and sleep till he could do so no more.

His mind came back to the present after he'd finished the goblet of milk that Faiana had brought to him and he handed it back to her, giving her his appreciation.

"Son of Adam." Faiana said. "Daughters of Eve, your brother arrived at camp late last night. He's come back."

Instantly, Peter, as well as Susan and Lucy, were on their feet. "Where is he?" Asked Peter.

The Naiad smiled at him. "He is with Aslan." Was her reply.

The three Pevensie children looked at each other, an expression of worry coming over each of their faces.

"Oh dear…" Susan said.

Faiana gathered the rest of the goblets and gave them all another smile as she began leaving the pavilion. "I am quite sure he would want to see you after what he has been through."

Peter nodded and looked to the other two and they all got themselves ready before heading outside. Edmund and Aslan stood beside the Stone Table quietly talking – well, rather Aslan doing most of the talking with Edmund listening and only occasionally speaking. Peter felt it might be best if they waited until later, but then Aslan turned His head toward them and Edmund turned as well.

At that, Lucy raced ahead of her siblings, rushing towards her brother. "Edmund!" Peter and Susan followed her, stopping just short of him. The smiles they wore diminished slightly when they saw the look of utter remorse on Edmund's face.

"Here is your brother." Said Aslan, gently nudging Edmund forward with His nose.

Edmund took a step towards the other three, his eyes darting about as he tried to look at them but felt he could not. He licked his lips in an attempt to talk. He sighed and attempted to speak again but his voice faltered.

It was only when Aslan spoke again that Edmund seemed to find himself. "There is no need to talk about what is passed." Then he looked to the others and spoke in a meek voice.

"I'm sorry…" Edmund looked first to Peter with doubt in his eyes and Peter knew that he'd always been the on for reservations and had often held grudges when things had gone wrong, but Peter knew too that his anger with Edmund at having lied about coming to Narnia before with Lucy had added in helping him choose to side with the White Witch and with Aslan's words, he felt that the only thing right to do would be to accept his brother's apology.

"That's alright." He said with a small smile and shook Edmund's hand. If nothing else, he felt that he ought to be glad that Edmund was back with them all.

Edmund smiled hopefully and looked to the others. "I am sorry!" He said, a hint of desperation in his voice.

The girls, who seemed much less reluctant about accepting his apology rushed forward to embrace him. "Yes Edmund!" They both said and hugged their brother tightly. Peter smiled and joined them. Yes, this was right. Even though Edmund had betrayed them, he had come back with a remorseful and sorrowful heart and asked their forgiveness. If Aslan had forgiven him then who was anyone to say that they could not forgive Edmund in turn.

They showed him around the camp and all seemed merry and gay. Peter took the others and showed them the overlook where Aslan had taken him the day before and explained that they were to become Kings and Queens. Edmund looked guiltily at the ground during most of the explanation and after being asked what was the matter, he told them that the Witch had promised that him that he would be a Prince and would be King of Narnia after she was gone. Lucy told Edmund not to worry, and that he'd been forgiven by everyone. Susan did the same to reassure him and even Peter attempted to make light of the fact.

"King of Narnia when she's gone, huh? Well, at least there's some truth to that. Once Aslan has taken care of her, we'll all be coroneted."

The three of them laughed at that and headed back to camp.

It was just after noontime and Peter and Edmund stood idly chatting about 'what it would be like to be King' and Susan, Lucy, Mrs. Beaver and Faiana sat making garlands of roses and other wild flowers with the Dryads in the shade of a pavilion overhanging when a leopard suddenly bounded up to Aslan and bowed its head low before the Great Lion. "Sire, there is a messenger from the enemy." At the leopard's words, Faiana stood, her hand dipping towards the dagger that rested on her belt.

The Great Lion nodded His head slowly as His eyes narrowed and His ears turned and flatted in His mane and He let out a low growl, "Let him approach."

The leopard bowed its head again and made off to the edge of the hilltop. A murmur rose about the encampment as the four children and the Naiad looked to where the leopard had took off to and saw it returning with Witch's Dwarf ahead of it. It was easy to tell that the closer the Dwarf got to Aslan, the more fearful it became. The leopard bowed before Aslan and sat on its haunches beside Aslan as the Dwarf stood uneasily in front of the Great Lion and Aslan spoke in an extremely stern tone. "What is your message, Son of Earth."

Peter swore he saw the Dwarf tense and its knees buckle as Aslan spoke to him and it replied in a nervous, quivering voice. "Th-The Queen of Narnia – and Empress of the Lone Islands… desires safe conduct to come and speak with You…"

"Queen of Narnia, indeed!" Mr. Beaver snapped. "Why of all the cheek!"

"Beaver, peace." Aslan said as he gently turned his head toward Mr. Beaver, then back to the Dwarf. "Tell your mistress that I grant her safe conduct on one condition. That she leave her wand behind that tree at the edge of the encampment."

The Dwarf seemed to have relaxed slightly, nevertheless, nervousness still permeated from it as it replied. "She expected such a request… on degrees."

"My people will go with you to see that the condition is properly observed." With that, Aslan turned to the two leopards at his side and nodded. They bowed in return and followed the Dwarf back to the edge of the hilltop.

Lucy glanced around nervously and looked up to Peter. "But – what if she turns them to stone?" It was obvious that the same thought was passing through the leopards' minds in the way that the fur on their backs and tails was bristled out.

Peter knelt down to Lucy's level and looked to her. "I think they're thinking the very same thing." He said to her. "But it's sure be alright."

"Aslan would not have sent them if it weren't." Faiana added then gasped, taking a half a step back, her eyes going wide. Seeing this, Peter stood as well and looked at where her eyes were focused and his went wide as well and he reached for the hilt of his sword as chills ran up and down his skin.

The White Witch herself appeared at the edge of the encampment and the Talking Beast let out all sorts of hisses and growls and roars. The Witch sneered at them all as she raised her wand high into the air. Peter tensed, expecting the worst, then the Witch lowered her wand and sat it beside the tree that Aslan had bid to do so.

She and the two leopards made their way toward Aslan and the Narnians in the encampment who had been lounging before all stood, not out of respect, but to move back safely away from the Witch. Many of them did not stop moving until they were well behind Aslan. As the Witch stopped in front of Aslan, the leopards quickly bowed to the Great Lion and took their places back at his side, looking very relieved to be away from the Witch. Peter did notice something about her. She never looked Aslan in His eyes.

"Aslan, you have a traitor, there!" She shouted turning her head toward Edmund and pointed her finger accusingly at him. Peter set his jaw and took a step forward, putting himself between his brother and the Witch.

"His offense was not against you." Was Aslan's reply.

"Have you forgotten the Deep Magic?" Said the Witch, turning back to Aslan, still refusing to look Him in His eyes.

"The Deep Magic from the Dawn of Time. Yes, I remember – but suppose I did not? Tell Me of this Deep Magic."

The Witch scowled. "You know what is written there!" She said, pointing over toward the Stone Table. "On that very table of stone! You know the magic that was put into Narnia at the very beginning by the Emperor-Over-The-Sea! You know that every traitor belongs to me, as my lawful prey! And that for every treachery I have the right to kill!"

"Oh, so that is why you hold to your claim to being a Queen, being the Emperor's _hangman_, I see!" Mr. Beaver shouted in return.

"Peace, Beaver." Aslan said admonishingly, a low growl in His voice.

Peter glanced back at Edmund and put up his shield as Susan and Lucy stood and Faiana joined them, bunching themselves up against Edmund to shield him from the Witch.

"You know, Aslan, that human creature is mine!" She turned her head and pointed toward Edmund again. "His blood is my property! His life is forfeit to me!"

Peter stared the Witch down, working his jaw nervously. It would have been so easy for him to have leaped forward and simply ended it there, drawing his sword and embedding his blade into her black heart, but Aslan had granted her safe conduct.

"Come and take him then!" Faiana shouted at the Witch. Peter could tell that she had mustered as much courage as she could to do so, but the Witch merely laughed at her.

"Fools! Do you think your Master can rob me of my rights by mere force? He knows the Deep Magic better than that! He knows that unless I have blood as the Law states!" The Witch's voice raised in pitch as her shouting turned into outright yelling. "The whole of Narnia will be overturned and will perish in fire and water!"

"It is true. I do not deny it." Said Aslan as a triumphant smirk crossed the Witch's face.

"Oh Aslan, can't You do something – to work against the Deep Magic?" Susan cried.

Aslan turned and stared at her incredulously. "Work against the Deep Magic?" Was His reply. "Wait, all of you. I will talk to the Witch alone." With that, Aslan walked with the Witch at his side past the edge of the encampment and out of sight.

As Aslan walked off with the Witch, Lucy turned to look back at Edmund who had remained silent throughout the whole ordeal, then looked to Peter, her lips trembling as she raced into his arms and hugged him tight. Peter wasn't unfamiliar with this. As the oldest of the four, he had always been the one they'd turned to for protection and comfort. He dropped his shield and held tight to Lucy with one arm.

Though he did not show it outwardly, inside he felt like a complete failure to all of them, especially to Edmund. His Knighthood, his destiny as High King, what did it all matter if he could not even protect his own brother from something as trivial as a law? Trivial it may have seemed to him at first as the Witch spouted off what dooms awaited Narnia of this supposed law was not kept to the letter, but to have her say those things and then for Aslan to have confirmed them? Peter was at an utter loss and he bowed his head. He could not bring himself to voice his thoughts, so great was the shame in his heart.

Faiana seemed to notice his distress and laid a pale hand on his shoulder. Her touch was cool and refreshing and Peter raised his head to look at her. Her eyes seemed to convey a look of a mixture of _It's not your fault; have faith that Aslan will put things to right._ But Peter slowly closed his eyes and shook his head.

Faiana let out a quiet sigh and lowered her head, then raised it again and leaned close to him. "When you have a chance, walk with me, Sir Peter." He noticed the lack of grace in her addressing him, but he also noticed her usage of his title. He stared at her, a moment puzzled and Lucy seemed to have heard Faiana and gently pulled away from Peter, drying her tears, trying to be brave. Peter let out a resigned sigh and turned and followed the Naiad away from the crowds.

The entire camp seemed utterly silent as the other Naiads and Dryads huddled together amongst their kin with the occasional Faun standing near them. Centaurs frowned deeply and pawed at the ground with the hooves and the Talking Beasts bowed their heads making subtle rustlings. It seemed like a solemn, sad time for all. The joy of having not only the four humans of the prophecy in their encampment but Aslan Himself with them had been utterly spoiled by the Witch's arrival. She was everything that Aslan was not. Where He was kind, she was cruel. Where He was just, she was tyrannical. Where He was understanding, she was pitiless. Where He was glorious, she was reprehensible.

Peter and Faiana continued walking until they were well away from the crowds before Faiana turned around and spoke. "What troubles you, Peter?" This time she spoke informally to him and he was appreciative of her for it.

Peter sighed and looked down. "This – if I cannot protect even my own brother from something like this… Deep Magic…" He trailed off for a moment before he spoke again. "How can I be a good King when I can't even protect my own brother? How can people expect me to be a good King when my own brother is in danger, but there is nothing I can do for him?"

Faiana's mouth fell open slightly at his admission then closed it as she took on a contemplative look, searching for the right words to give him. "Remember what is said of Aslan, Son of Adam." She gave him the smallest of smiles, her dark eyes gently looking into his own as she attempting to reassure him.

Peter looked at her uncertainly as the rhyme that Mr. and Mrs. Beaver had told to the children two days ago at their dam came to his mind.

_Wrong will be right when Aslan comes in sight  
>At the sound of His roar, sorrows will be no more<br>When He bares his teeth, winter meets its death  
>And when He shakes his mane, we shall have spring again.<em>

_You'll understand when you see Him._ Mr. Beaver had said. Peter had been now with Aslan for a full day counting by the hours and at first, it had seemed that Mr. Beaver's words were true. But the confrontation with the Witch just moments ago had shaken his faith entirely. It had, at first seemed that Aslan could do the impossible, but to hear from Aslan's own mouth that He could not undo the laws set into Narnia, the Deep Magic – oh how had disappointment flooded his soul. It troubled him too. The Beavers had made it seem as though Aslan was incapable of allowing harm to come to anyone. Now that disappointment had settled into Peter, he began to see how rash, how illogical it had been to believe something like that. Such a childish notion.

"Faiana, how can you have such faith, such hope in Aslan when something like this happens? There's nothing that can be done and Aslan Himself said it."

Faiana shook her head. "Remember what he said when your sister asked Aslan if anything could be done to save your brother." Peter sighed as he recalled the Great Lion's words. _All shall be done, but it may be more difficult than you think._ "Difficult does not mean impossible, Peter. Things may not work out as we wish them to, but Aslan will find a way."

Her words made sense to him, but his heart held him back. "But how – why do you believe that?"

Faiana smiled that beautifully small smile at him again. "Because He is good. And He has kept His word… It was Aslan that long ago foretold of your coming, Peter. You and your brother and sisters were not the first humans in Narnia. Long ago, at Narnia's beginning, Aslan gave everything in Narnia – every stick, every rock, every river – He gave the Sons of Adam and the Daughters of Eve dominion over all of Narnia. Over all beasts both those that could talk and those that could not – over all the spirits of the world, the Naiads and Dryads. There were many generations of Kings and Queens in Narnia all that came from the first Son of Adam and Daughter of Eve that ruled Narnia."

"Then the White Witch came…" She trailed off for a moment before continuing. "All of Narnia fought against her but nothing could overcome her. We prayed to Aslan –

"You were there?" Peter's mouth fell open slightly and the Naiad nodded.

"I was. I am a Naiad, Peter. A River Nymph. A Daughter of the River God – so long as the waters of the Great River flow, we're immortal. Granted, if we are wounded to the point where our bodies can no longer stand it, we die. But unless that happens, we do not die."

Peter stared at her, dumbfounded. She truly was as ancient as her eyes suggested her to be, yet still, it was a shock to him. Just how old was she? Had she been there at Narnia's beginning?

But before he could ask her, she continued. "In desperation, the last King of Narnia stood on the eastern sea at dawn just before the sun rose and prayed to Aslan for deliverance and there, Aslan appeared to him and told him:

_When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone  
>Sits at Cair Paravel in throne,<br>The evil times will be over and done_

It puzzled him greatly, for the King was a Son of Adam himself, no matter if he shared the blood of my sisters." At this, Peter frowned. What had she meant by a human sharing the blood of a Naiad? But again, she continued before he could ask. "And then Aslan told him that He would place four thrones in Cair Paravel and that when two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve sat in those four throne, then it would be the end, not only of the White Witch's reign but of her life."

Peter nodded. "The Beavers told us as much back at the Beavers dam, but what does that have to do with having faith that Aslan will make all well?"

Faiana blinked at him, her eyes going wide. "It has everything to do with it!" She took a step forward and lifted her hand to gently cup Peter's cheek. "Do you not see, Son of Adam? Over one hundred years ago, Aslan said these things and for one hundred years, we Narnians waited for the day when the two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve would come… And now, you are here." She smiled at him and he could see the whiteness of her teeth and the expression of joy that crept into her eyes. "Aslan has kept His word. He is good." She lowered her hand and took him by his shoulders. "If we Narnians can wait one hundred years for Aslan, surely it could not be such a task to ask you to wait for Him for so short a time."

Though her words were encouraging, Peter felt suddenly selfish and lowered his head and spoke in a low voice. "You are right… of course, Faiana." He frowned and gave a defeated sigh. "I'm just being selfish."

She shook his shoulder slightly and caused him to look back up at her. "Now none of that, Peter. Self-pity is unbefitting for a Knight of Narnia, let alone its future King." She smiled at him and lowered her arms once again to her sides. "Now, just close your eyes and take a deep breath and tell yourself that Aslan will put all to rights."

He did as she bid him to do so and the words of the Beaver's rhyme came back to his mind. Faiana was not Aslan, but in that moment, he once again experienced that emotion that had filled him the day before when Aslan had breathed on him and knighted him that serene feeling of joy. And that in turn gave way once more to that feeling when Mr. Beaver had first mentioned the name of Aslan to the children that day in the snow-covered forests, that feeling of heroism, valor, nobility and courage.

He smiled and opened his eyes, only to find them welling with tears, so great were the feelings that overcame him. He gave a small laugh and took another breath as he wiped his eyes. "Thank you, Fai."

She blinked and giggled. "Are you attempting to give me a nickname, your Highness?" Her voice held a teasing tone to it, but he could tell by her using his formal title again that she was reminding him of his future.

Peter smiled again. "Only if you bid me to do so… Daughter of the River God."

Faiana shook her head. "Oh, you are impossible. Come the rest of the encampment awaits us." And with that, they made their way back to the encampment, still wearing the smiles they had had before. The other Pevensie children looked to Peter curiously as he came back.

"How can you be smiling at a time like this?" She asked with a frown.

"Don't worry, Su. Aslan will put all to rights." Was Peter's reply to her. "He's still speaking with the Witch?"

"We heard his voice a few moments ago – Oh look! They've returned!" Faiana said, and so they had. The Witch and Aslan walked quietly back into camp and all stood and peered at the two (especially Edmund) with bated breath.

"I have settled the matter." Said Aslan. "She has renounced your claim on your brother's blood."

With that, the camp gave a sigh of relief and the four children all embraced each other in joy and relief.

But then the Witch's shrill voice rang out across the hilltop. "But how do I know this promise with be kept?"

At that, Aslan's face twisted into one of deep-seated anger and he opened his mouth wide. Terrible was His gaping maw, but even more terrible was the roar that He let loose and the encampment barely had time to cover their ears from the wrath of the Great Lion. Everything about the gentle, loving Aslan was gone and this new terrifying one even made Peter tremble in fear. He remembered the Beaver's words. _Safe? 'Course He isn't safe! But He's good. He's the King._

As for the Witch, she gasped in horror and picked up her skirts and fled for her life, only stopping to pick up her wand that she had set down.

When the rest of the encampment finally caught their breath, Aslan turned to them. "Come, we must move from this place at once. It will soon be needed for other things. Tonight, we encamp at the Fords of Beruna."

The camp was hastily broken down and everything packed away and they all made their way down of the hilltop and into the forest. Aslan called Peter over to Him at one point.

"What do you make of the Witch's movements, Son of Adam?" He asked. "What do you think would be her most likely course of action?"

Peter blinked at Aslan. Did Aslan not know what to do? It couldn't be. Then he saw it in Aslan's eyes. He was testing Peter and he thought a moment. "If I were the Witch…" Peter began. "I would have my crew fall back to her house and prepare for a siege." He couldn't help but notice that Aslan seemed strangely sad even as the Great Lion smiled at him.

"Yes, very perceptive. Now, you may or may not be able to cut her off and prevent her from reaching it, so you must have two battle plans ready. One plan is for assaulting her castle. The other is for fighting her and her forces in the forest, but it will be difficult to know where she will decide to strike."

Peter frowned. "Yes, I see that, but -" He begin to say, but a look from Aslan cut him off.

"You must post scouts at all outlying points so that she will not steal up and catch you unawares." Said Aslan.

Peter frowned again. "But – You'll be there Yourself, Aslan…"

That sad look seemed to permeate from Aslan all the more now and the Great Lion let out what Peter took to be a resigned breath. "…I can give you no promise of that…" He said and moved on, leaving a very befuddled Peter standing there a moment. Was Aslan not to be at the battle? How could it be?

Peter closed his eyes and took a breath, attempting to calm himself, reciting the rhyme he had done earlier that day. He did not notice Faiana moving to walk alongside him or that he had been mutter it under his breath until she was upon him and finished reciting along with him.

"_And when He shakes his mane…"_ Peter looked over to her to see her smiling as she gestured to the forest about her. "_…we shall have spring again…"_

This encouraged him a bit and he thanked her for earlier when he'd doubted himself. Her only reply was "I was merely doing my service to my future King, Highness." It may have been just Peter, but he detected a slight playful tone to her voice. "I am glad that we're camping near the river. That way coming into camp in the mornings isn't such a chore." At that, Peter looked over to her curiously and she explained. "We Naiads do not… sleep in the way Sons of Adam do, Highness. We return to our waters. That is our way of being refreshed and renewed."

Peter nodded and they continued on for a time until they came to the Fords. The Naiads in the encampment rushed to the riverbank and leap into the river, their bodies seeming to dissolve into the water. Peter stared in wonder when a large figure arose from the river. Twice the height of a grown man, he looked like an incredibly old Naiad with what appeared to be a crown of seaweed and water lilies.

Aslan approached the riverbank and looked to the giant figure, then bowed His head as if in respect and the figure did the same thing before it knelt (or at least, it appeared that it knelt) into the river and was gone again. Again, Peter stared in wonder and approached Aslan and the Great Lion turned and smiled at him, though sadness still lingered in His great eyes.

"The River-God, Son of Adam. One of Narnia's greatest allies and perhaps one of the oldest in all of Narnia. The father of all Naiads including Faiana. Though he will be one of your subjects when you are King, respect to him is due. For it is he who keeps Narnia's waters clean and fresh."

Peter nodded to Aslan and surveyed the area. "Aslan, would it not be better if we camped a little away from the Fords? That way, encase the Witch were to attack at night, we wouldn't be cornered against the river."

Aslan's smile brightened at Peter. "Now you are beginning to think as a King would. As I told you before, Son of Adam, when the time of trials and tests is come to you, you will know what to do. Just have faith in Me and faith in yourself."

The camp was set up about half a mile east of the Fords as Peter had suggested and everyone was settling in for the evening. Faiana and her kin made sure that the camp was supplied with food for the night. Since a confrontation with the Witch was nearing, there was no grand feast, no dancing in the forest and fires were kept as small as possible so as to not give away their position.

As Peter and the other Pevensie children settled in for the night, Peter could not help but occasionally take a peek out of the pavilion flap to ensure that Aslan still remained. Each time he checked, the Great Lion remained, though He looked greatly saddened as He had all afternoon.

"Peter?" Lucy asked and he turned around to see his youngest sister staring at him with bated breath.

Peter turned around and sat with the others on the bed. Susan offered him a dish that had been leftover from earlier, but Peter shook his head no. There was no way he would be able to eat. Not with his stomach flip-flopping inside him "He's still there."

Susan sighed and frowned. "He seemed so sad all afternoon."

Peter hesitated a moment. "…He's not going to be there." The other three looked up at him questioningly.

"But – the battle?" Said Edmund.

Peter frowned and shook his head. "He's leaving it to me… to us… But He wouldn't desert us. Not just as we need Him."

Then, for the first time in a long while, Lucy frowned. "Not unless He had to."

That was not a comforting thought at all. Since Lucy had brought it up, Peter began to wonder. Was Aslan's agreement with the Witch that in exchange for Edmund's life, Aslan would not be present at the battle? Peter tried to think of other things, yet he felt in his heart that this was what was to be. That was why Aslan had been leaving him with battle plans among other things.

Faiana, who had returned from the river a few hours ago, looked down at the troubled humans. "Aslan will put all to rights, just have faith. He's driven away the winter and He's had the Witch renounce her claim on high Highness' blood. Do not give up hope now."

Peter looked up to Faiana and gave a sigh. "You must tire of telling me that, Faiana."

The Naiad shook her head. "I do not tire of it, for the four of you have only known of Aslan for but a few days. We Narnians have known Him our whole lives. It is just something that you will do once you've been here a while." She moved toward them and took away the empty dishes that remained. "It would be well for your Highnesses to rest. Tomorrow may very well be the day of the great battle and it will not do to have you weary from no sleep."

Peter sighed. "She's right. Come on, off to bed everyone."

Reluctantly, everyone began bedding down for the night. Peter lay awake for a while staring up at the pavilion ceiling. He kept telling himself over and over again that all would be put to rights. He reminded himself of what Faiana had told him earlier today. Oh, even after witnessing and hearing such things that he had, he still found it difficult to find comfort. Did he have so little faith? Soon, what he found though was that he did not lack faith in Aslan, but he lacked faith in himself. The thoughts continued rolling about his mind for a while before he finally muttered. "Oh Aslan… help me to not doubt myself, help me to be able to carry out Your will should You not be here during the battle. Give me the wisdom to lead wisely. Give me the strength to lead and be strong for the Narnians. Do not abandon me when I need you the most."

Though he expected for nothing to answer him, it was suddenly brought to the front of his mind what Aslan had said the day before

_If you were not fit to be the High King of Narnia, Peter, I would not have brought you here. … I have never met a creature known as Luck._

This seemed to give him a small amount of comfort. For if Aslan had faith in him, why should he, himself not have faith in himself? And with that, Peter drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well, there we have it. Second chapter up. I have not yet begun work on the third chapter so it may be a few days before I am able to post it. As to be expected, the next chapter will be the Battle of the Fords of Beruna. Since this is a bookverse fic, it will not be a simple pen and paper enactment of the Battle of Beruna as seen in the 2005 movie. Again, reviews and constructive criticisms are more than welcome. Until next time!<strong>


	3. The Battle of the Fords of Beruna

**Disclaimer: I own nothing (ESPECIALLY not the words at the end of the words at the end of that one particular paragraph at the end of the chapter) except for Faiana.**

**Summary: ****What is there in the making for one who is called 'High King' and 'the Magnificent?' A story of how Peter grew into his position and title with an eventual Peter/OC.**

**AN: Well, here it is! The moment some of you have all been waiting for! The Battle of the Fords of Beruna!**

**I'd like to thank Calyn again for her review of the last chapter and if I may take a few lines to make a reply.**

**Calyn: I had not intended for the boys or the Narnians to find out about Aslan, though it is my suspicion that the Narnians later found out prior to **_**Prince Caspian**_** because of the constructing of Aslan's How over the Stone Table. I also suspect that Edmund himself found out later prior to **_**The Voyage of the Dawn Treader**_** because of the one scene just after Eustace has been de-dragoned and Eustace asks Edmund if he knows Aslan to which Edmund replies:**

"**Well – He knows me. … ****He is the great Lion, the Son of the Emperor over Sea,**_**who saved me and saved Narnia**_**. We've all seen him. Lucy sees him most often. And it may be Aslan's country we are sailing to." (emphasis added)**

**It's my suspicion that Aslan Himself told Edmund and he recorded it in Narnian history. I certainly don't think that Aslan would have told anyone else since, as Aslan told Shasta in **_**The Horse and His Boy**_**:**

"**I am telling you your story, not [Aravis']. I tell no one any story but his own.**" **(paraphrased to know whom Aslan was referring to)**

* * *

><p>Chapter Three: The Battle of the Fords of Beruna<p>

Peter slept uneasily that night before. More than once, he was awakened by the sounds of moans and haunts that sounded through the woods. Whenever he'd awaken, he'd always roll over to see that if the rest of them were alright. To him, the others never stirred. At some point in the night, he was finally able to catch a long draught of sleep before being awoken by and uproarious cry that echoed throughout the night. So eerie was it, that he stood and poked his head out of the pavilion flap. When he looked about the encampment, his fears that Aslan was leaving came to light. The Great Lion was nowhere to be found. One of the sentries that stood watch approached him and told him that Aslan had left the encampment a few hours before and that he'd also seen his sisters follow after Aslan shortly.

At that, Peter's heart sank. Now not only was Aslan gone, but so were Susan and Lucy. How he hadn't noticed this with the number of times he'd been awoken during the night bewildered him. He attempted to reassure himself that where ever Susan and Lucy were, they were with Aslan and they were safe. It had taken him a long time to fall back asleep after that.

Suddenly, he as well as the rest of the encampment were awakened just as the sun peeked out from the horizon by what sounded like the worst clap of thunder that had ever been heard by any of them. It was like a Giant had taken a Giant's plate and slammed it onto a table. Peter bolted out of bed, adrenaline rushing through his veins and for a brief moment, he thought he was back in London and the Nazi Luftwaffe had started another bombing. But when he finally got his senses together and realized where he was, it raised an even greater question. What had caused that sound? He wasted no time in rousing the entire encampment (though not much effort was needed as the other Narnians had also been awakened by the thunderous boom).

"Aslan," he muttered to himself. "Please let my sisters be safe."

A Centaur cantered up to him a few moments later. "Sire, we should make ready for battle. The Witch's forces have been spotted to the south of the Fords of Beruna. She and her crew will be making passage across the river soon if we do not make haste."

Peter's face turned over in worry. Now the entire war-effort had been put on his shoulders with Aslan's absence. "How long do we have to make ready before the Witch's forces cross the river."

The Centaur lofted his head for a moment, as if in contemplation before he looked back down at Peter again. "Perhaps three or four hours."

Peter nodded. "That will give us enough time, then. Have the army ready itself and we'll set an ambush for her crew." The majority of the army, being comprised of Talking Beasts needed little time to ready and those who wore armor (with the exception of himself and Edmund who had never worn it) were ready for fighting in under half an hour.

Faiana, it seemed, had already planned ahead for the anticipated fighting and had commissioned the Dryads to fashion for Peter and Edmund surcoats that they would be able to wear over their armor. The base color was a dark hued green with a crimson rampant Lion emblazoned on the front.

"This is the coat of arms for Narnia that the Kings and Queens of old wore before the times of the White Witch." She had told Peter and Edmund as they both donned the respective surcoats and fastened their baldrics overtop them. Faiana smiled. "Now you both look like true Knights and Princes of Narnia."

Both Edmund and Peter smiled at her, though their eyes both betrayed their nervousness about the upcoming battle.

Edmund's time with the White Witch truly seemed to have changed him, Peter found. No longer did he seem eager to "be right there in all the excitement" as Edmund had put it once when voicing how unfair it had been for Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie, his parents to send him and Peter and Susan and Lucy out into the country away from the bombings in London. Instead, Peter could see nervousness written on Edmund's face plainly in the way his eyes were wider than normal and the way they darted about in anxiety. The way he even breathed. Peter went and clapped his brother on his shoulder and gave him a small shake. "We'll make it. Don't you worry." He'd told him. Edmund nodded back and with that, the Narnian army began making their way through the forest toward the Fords of Beruna.

Peter had met with his Lieutenants earlier to discuss the plans for the coming battle. While many of them had advised him on the side of caution when confronting the Witch's forces, Edmund insisted that there was no way they would be able to win if they did not fight with their all. Once they had begun, they would need to fight with everything they had, even to the last man if it came to it. Many of the elder Lieutenants agreed with Edmund, having witnessed the atrocities of the White Witch before. Retreat would not be an option. If they attempted, the Witch would hunt them all down or, even if she left some of them alive, she would make it so they would never recover from their loss. That being said, Peter formed a plan.

Just to the North of the Fords of Beruna, after about a mile of open plains was a narrow winding valley in the woods that offered the quickest route from the Fords to the Witch's house. Peter felt that this would be an ideal place to battle against the Witch. His plan was that he would divide the archers into the army into two groups and have them take position on either side of the valley, hiding amongst the trees in the wood while the main force of the Narnian army would position itself on the Northern side. With any luck – or rather, if it was Aslan's will, Peter reminded himself, they would be able to thin the Witch's ranks enough so that the main force of Narnians wouldn't have to do all that much fighting. The plan seemed a sound one.

With that, Peter took his troops and did as was planned. They crossed the Fords of Beruna and made their way across the plains and one group of archers were positioned on the western side of the valley while another group was positioned on the eastern side. Peter kept a smaller contingent of archers with the main force to reinforce their location and with an hour to spare, the Narnian army was in position and ready. Messages were run back and forth and every so often, it would be reported that the Witch's army was on the move. As her army neared, the Narnian army made ready.

A Talking Eagle circled overhead, its keen eyes looking for any sign of the Witch before reporting back to Peter. "Your Highness," it said, landing just in front of the Peter. "The Witch and her crew have just entered the valley. I would not wait more than ten more minutes before sounding the attack."

Peter nodded in return. "Very well. You've served Narnia and Aslan well."

The Eagle bobbed its head in a bow before it took flight again to hide amongst the trees and swoop down upon the enemy later in the battle. "My life for the Lion and for Narnia!"

Peter took a breath, attempting to put himself at ease, though knowing that danger and possibly their doom was drawing ever nearer, it unsettled him.

"We're all here for you Peter." Said Edmund.

Peter turned to his brother and sighed, shaking his head. "I just wish I knew where those girls were."

"With Aslan." Edmund said, trying to be reassuring, but as he looked back into the valley and say the Witch's army approaching, he muttered "…Where ever He is."

Peter sighed again. "Well I wish they were all here. Especially Aslan." He too, turned his eyes to the Witch's approaching army. The wind rustled the branches of nearby trees as he drew his sword.

This was it.

Raising his sword into the air, he cried in a loud voice. "A sword for Narnia! And for Aslan!" The Narnian army echoed his cry and the horns of war were sounded. The hissing of arrows leaving their bowstrings sounded and from Peter's perspective, it looked like hundreds of insects jumped into the air and fell upon the Witch's army.

The attack had, it seemed come as a complete surprise as the first ranks of the Witch's army fell beneath the Narnian arrows, but the Witch's army quickly regrouped, their own archers taking aim at the ones that had been positioned at the edges of the valley while the main force of the Witch's army surged forward. Peter took comfort in the fact that at least his archers had the trees to hide in and hide behind, but things would definitely get ugly once the Witch's army closed on the main force of Peter's.

Another volley from the Narnian archers sounded and more of the Witch's henchmen fell and, with keen eyes, Peter saw that some of the archers had specifically targeted the Witch herself, but through her magics, she was able to repel the projectiles and turned her hateful eyes towards Peter's army. A Centaur to Peter's left reared and Peter moved to calm it, but as soon as he took a step, the Centaur's features greyed and then it moved no more. Peter stared in shock and Edmund gasped and both turned their eyes to see the Witch holding her wand aloft. Had her aim been slightly to the right…

"Peter! We have to charge now!" Edmund shouted. "We're sitting ducks here!"

Peter had not realized the extent of the Witch's power. So much for his initial plan. It was time to improvise. He felt a lump forming in his throat as chills ran up and down his skin. Like his fight with Maugrim, he did not feel particularly brave, but felt more like he was going to be sick – yet the outcome of that fight had ended with him as the victor and so he raised his sword again. "A sword for Narnia! A sword for Aslan!" Again, the Narnian army echoed his cry as he swung his sword down and began running headlong toward the ranks of the Witch's army.

He felt as if he were throwing himself into suicide yet on they charged. "Don't stop fighting till we've killed the Witch!" He shouted. "Kill her! KILL HER!" It was not in his nature to be overly violent, but the lives of good creatures in Narnia and his siblings were at stake.

He rushed past the first of the Witch's army and faced off against an Efreet. Fire surged around it's form as it leered down at Peter and swung one of its fiery limbs in an effort to knock Peter's head from his shoulders. Peter ducked behind his shield and let it take the blow before he pushed out and thrust his sword forward. He heard the thing shriek as his sword pierced whatever passed as its skin, then he drew his sword back and hacked away until the Efreet lay in a pile of charred ash before him.

_First kill of the day_. He thought to himself and looked around. All seemed to be dissolving into chaos around him. No ranks had been formed by either army. They had simply plunged together and were now fighting in and amongst each other in the trees. It was going to be a blood bath. Statues dotted the gorge and Peter looked to see the Witch swinging her wand every which way, more statues appearing with each swing. She had to be stopped or they were finished.

He saw the Witch look his way and he ducked behind the figure of a crouched griffon that had been turned to stone with one of the Witch's crew pinned beneath it. He heard the hiss of an arrow being loosed from its bow and looked to his right. Faiana crouched behind the griffon as well, now armed with a bow with a half-emptied quiver as well as her dagger. Sweat poured from her pale forehead as she fired upon the enemy from their cover.

"Faiana!" Peter cried. "Can you get the Witch from here?"

The Naiad turned her head, her eyes staring somewhat disbelieving at Peter before she shook her head. "I've tried hitting her but her magic protects her! I have to get closer!"

Peter nodded to her and peeked up from behind the griffon to spy on the Witch. Her back was to them now as she begin making statues of what was left of Narnia's eastern flank. "Come on!" He shouted and bounded ahead, his shield and sword at the ready and she followed, notching another arrow as they ran. Together, they fought their way through the enemy, getting ever closer to the Witch. Peter swinging his sword and shield to ward away the enemy while Faiana fired her bow at any that approached them from a distance.

Peter looked up to where he'd last seen the Witch briefly and saw that the Talking Eagle which had brought him news of the Witch's arrival was now attempting to snatch the Witch's wand from her hand and the Witch batted at it with a blood-stained stone knife. The hair on the back of Peter's neck stood on end as he heard what sounded like an angry bull behind him and turned to see a Minotaur bearing down on Faiana.

"Look out!" He cried as Faiana turned her head just in time to see the Minotaur swing its axe toward her. She ducked from the swing and disregarded her bow and drew the dagger that hung from her belt in one fluid motion, like water rushing over and under a rock in a fast flowing river and as she rose again, she embedded the dagger into the Minotaur's chest. The monster gave a guttural whine as it fell off balance and moved no more.

Peter turned back to where he last saw the Witch, only to find that she was no longer there, then turned back to Faiana. "Come on! We have to find out where she got to!"

But as Peter turned to try and find where the Witch had gone, he found himself unable to move. It was as though his muscles were frozen. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Faiana's eyes widen.

"PETER!" She cried and leaped behind him.

As soon as she had done so, he found himself able to move again. He spun around and saw Faiana standing tall with her arms stretched out wide, and in front of her...

…Stood the Witch with her wand upraised.

The world seemed to slow and even as Peter yelled in defiance, Faiana's features greyed and then she froze. A cold stone statue now stood where the living, breathing Naiad once had.

Peter felt as if his heart had dropped from his body. The Witch cackled madly, taunting him, mocking him. Tears strung his eyes and for a moment, he stood there in utter disbelief, despair welling up inside him to replace where his heart had once been. He saw the Witch, still laughing in as if in utter delight and ecstasy.

He yelled in defiance again and rushed forward. His life no longer mattered. His despair gave way to hatred as he raised his sword and charged forward. An Incubus stepped in his path, brandishing a thorny whip and lashed it out towards him. Peter blocked with his shield and in the same second swung his sword down, slashing across the monster's chest. The thing fell to the earth, writhing in pain but Peter paid it not even a thought as he continued toward the Witch.

He vaguely noticed that a leopard had joined his right side, it four legs propelling it faster than Peter could run. He was less than twenty feet from the Witch as the leopard leaped forward, letting out a roar, its terrible claws unvelveting as it pounced on the Witch.

Even in her delirious stupor, the Witch raised her wand again and the leopard was turned to stone. Its form frozen in mid-pounce. It only served to fill Peter's rage all the more and he barely noticed the figure of another person baring a surcoat of the Narnia coat of arms. The Witch's wand was still upraised when a sword flashed down upon it. Steel met gold and there was brilliant flash of blue, white and yellow and in the next second, the Witch took a step back, her eyes going wide. Only for an instant did she stare in shock at the golden stump in her hand that was once in her wand, then she turned with her stone knife and parried away the sword that had shattered her wand.

Edmund stood in all defiance against the Witch, sweat beading off his brow as he brought his sword up again to make another strike, and in his attempt to finish the Witch once and for all, he dropped his shield and took his sword in both hands. Even as he brought his sword down, the Witch struck like a viper, her stone knife plunging into Edmund's gut.

It felt to Peter like a cold icy hand had gripped his stomach and wrenched it out from inside him as the Witch pulled her knife away and Edmund fell.

If rage had been what Peter felt before, then whatever filled him now far surpassed it. He felt as though fire and ice now rushed through his veins as he raced forward. The Witch attempted to bring her knife down upon Edmund again but Peter intercepted it with his shield and pushed his arm forward, following through by thrusting his sword. The Witch had been thrown off balance but with an unearthly grace, stepped back and regained her footing. At the same time, she flung her other arm forward, the stump of her wand catching Peter's sword, forcing it back. But Peter was relentless as he pressed forward again. This time, the Witch fell back, more toward the center of the battlefield and Peter rushed to pursue her. He barely noticed two bears and a Centaur rush up to drag Edmund away.

"Don't just stand there fools!" The Witch cried. "Crush the human vermin! Crush him!" Yet all of the Witch's crew were engaged in fighting off what remained of Peter's army. They had all seen the flash of light when Edmund had shattered the Witch's wand and hope of a victory kindled in their hearts and they fought with renewed vigor.

They were now in the center of the battlefield and, having none of her crew heed her call, the Witch turned to face Peter. He swung his sword in a downwards motion and the Witch stepped back to dodge it. His arm tensed like a stretched rope and the elasticity from the momentum of his last strike served to propel his arm around again in a backslash. The Witch barely had time to bring her knife up to parry the attack, sparks flew as steel struck stone. Peter continued relentlessly hacking at the Witch as she in turn did her best to ward away his attacks only able to get out an infrequent thrust or slash which Peter easily blocked with his shield. Though the Witch no longer had her wand, the battle would not be over until she was dead. In the back of his mind, Peter prayed that not too many of his troops had fallen or been turned to stone in order for that to happen, but he had no intentions of allowing the Witch to finish him.

The faces of Edmund, Faiana and other brave Narnians flashed through his mind with each sword stroke. He gritted his teeth in determination. This would be that the Witch fell. By Aslan he swore it.

A low rumble reverberated in his chest long enough to make him pause in his fighting. It seemed as if the same feeling had overcome the Witch, for she too, paused. He chanced a glance at his troops and was only vaguely aware of more Narnians rushing into battle, but then his mouth fell open in awe.

In the middle of all the Narnians rushing into the fight stood Aslan, glorious and tall with His muzzle opened wide in a roar, Susan and Lucy by His side with their hands clasped over their ears. At that moment, Peter felt the ground shake beneath him and he tumbled forward, barely catching himself with his hands and stared at Aslan in wonder. Was this truly the extent of Aslan's power? That all of Narnia would tremble before His roar if He so willed it or was His power even greater than that?

Then Aslan leaped from that great distance, bearing down on the Witch. Peter's gaze followed Aslan's form and the instant before Aslan had flung Himself on the Witch, he saw her head lifted up towards Him with an expression of terror and amazement. Then Lion and Witch rolled over together, but with the Witch underneath; at that same moment, the war-like creatures that had accompanied Aslan joined the fray, Dwarves with their battleaxes, Talking Beasts with their teeth or claws or talons, Unicorns with their horns, Centaurs with their swords and even a Giant with his club (and his feet also crushed dozens of the foe). And Peter's tired army cheered, and the newcomers roared, and the enemy squealed and gibbered till the wood re-echoed with the din of that onset.

Aslan's arrival had changed the tide of battle and soon, the whole of what remained of the Witch's army was in retreat. The Narnians all rejoiced. At long last, the Witch's reign upon Narnia was over.

Peter made his way over to Aslan and found Him as well as Susan and Lucy huddled around Edmund. His face was pale and his breathing was shallow. Peter was surprised that there was relatively little blood spilt, but nevertheless, at the sight of Edmund, he was closed to panicking when Aslan turned to his youngest sister.

"Quick, Lucy!" Aslan commanded and she looked up at Aslan, seeming at loss.

"But what can I do?" Lucy cried, shaking her head with a bewildered look.

Susan turned to her. "Don't you remember what Father Christmas gave you?"

Then Lucy blinked and looked down at the cordial. Hastily, she took it from her neck and opened it, and put but a droplet of it in Edmund's mouth. As soon as the tiny droplet entered Edmund's mouth, he swallowed and let out a quiet moan, and fidgeted.

"Ed? Edmund?" Peter called, his voice barely a whisper as Edmund blinked his eyes open, a small smile spreading across his face. Peter smiled back at him. "You jolly foolish chap. That had to be the stupidest, bravest thing I've ever seen you do." And Peter couldn't help but give a relieved laugh.

"Come, there are many others who are wounded." Said Aslan.

Lucy looked up at Him, frowning. "Yes, I know. Wait a minute!"

"Daughter of Eve." Aslan said in a reproachful tone, a low growl in His voice. "Daughter of Eve…" He spoke again, this time only in a slightly more gentle tone. "Others are also at the point of death. Must more people die for Edmund?"

Lucy looked down, an expression of guilt on her face, as did Susan. Peter peered at the both of them, a frown crossing his face. _Must more people die for Edmund?_ What had Aslan meant by that? He did not give voice to his question, however as Susan and Lucy moved on to the next person that had been dragged away from combat due to wounds.

Only then did Peter look up. The dead and dying lay everywhere and the statues – so many statues of Narnians who had fought bravely against the Witch and were denied even the respite of death, forever frozen and never to move again until the world's end.

Sorrow overwhelmed Peter when his gaze fell upon the statue of what had once been his new found friend, Faiana. Tears streamed down his face as he made his way to that statue and raised a hand, caressing the cold cheek of the Naiad statue, her face immobilized in determined defiance to protect the only hope of Narnia – himself. As guilt and sorrow both welled up inside him, he heard a quiet noise behind him and turned to find Aslan standing there. An expression of sorrow on His glorious face. A sorrow so deep that Peter felt that to even compare his own sorrow to that of Aslan's would be to spit in the Great Lion's face.

Peter quickly wiped his eyes and spoke quietly to Aslan. "It was near hopelessness, Aslan." He said. "The Witch was turning our ranks into statues left and right and all would have been lost had Edmund not had the brilliance to destroy her wand instead of just attacking her outright like so many others had tried to do. Just as the Witch had turned one of your leopards to stone, he shattered it, but then she wounded him."

Aslan nodded slowly. "Stand away, Son of Adam." Said He and Peter blinked and glanced at Faiana's statue and slowly stepped aside. Then Aslan stepped right up to the statue and took in a deep breath. Peter stared in wonder at the Great Lion, then Aslan breathed upon the statue and Peter's mouth fell open.

Color spread over the statue's face where Aslan had breathed over it and then the color continued to flow, like the edge of a piece of paper that had caught fire, the color spread over the Naiad's form until there was no more statue, only the pale skin and deep blue dress the Naiad wore.

Faiana inhaled sharply and stumbled. An expression of shock and wonder over her face and then she noticed Aslan and gave a low curtsey to the Great Lion.

All Peter could do was let out a wonder-filled cry. No more was the statue. Only Faiana remained. Aslan turned and leaped over to the leopard and breathed on it. The leopard finished its pounce and then crouched low, its head swirling from side to side as it saw no sign of the Witch. Then it noticed Aslan and bowed low. "Hail, Aslan!" It cried and followed Aslan over to another statue.

Finally recovering from his shock and gladness, Peter turned to Faiana to find her smiling that secret smile of hers and Peter saw in that smile something that needed no words to voice. _Aslan will put all to rights, just have faith._ Peter gave a shaky laugh as tears of joy and gladness welled in his eyes, and he voiced only what he could bring himself to say.

"You were right, Fai."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And there we have it. I hope that was an, at least somewhat accurate rendition of the battle. I wish I could be more certain, but as my Kindle was broken a week ago, I cannot be sure. One thing I can say is that I had to rewrite a bit of the chapter since I had originally intended to have the battle take place to the South of the Fords of Beruna but then I recalled that Aslan and the Narnians which Aslan un-stoned at the Witch's castle never crossed the Fords to get to the battle, so I shifted it to being North of the Fords.<strong>

**As I said before, my overall hope is that it was a somewhat accurate rendition of the battle. It had just always bothered me that in the books, the battle takes place in only a single paragraph so I consider this my chance to expand on it a bit.**

**As always, reviews and constructive criticisms are most welcome. Next chapter, the coronation at Cair Paravel. Until next time!**


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